"Oh, Mother Michel, Your cat is not lost; He is up in the garret A-hunting the rats, With his little straw gun And his sabre of wood!" The words were full of a bitter raillery, which Father Lustucru was unable to disguise. To pretend that Moumouth was hunting rats with his little straw gun and his wooden sword was to suppose something quite unlikely, for nobody ever saw a cat make use of such arms. But the agonies of Mother Michel had so confused her mind, that she noticed only what could give her a gleam of hope. "He is in the garret!" she cried, without paying attention to the rest of the verse. "Let us hasten there, my dear sir; let us search for him. Give me your arm, for I am so nervous, so troubled, so harassed by fatigue, that I have not the strength to get up alone." [Illustration: She searches the Attic.] The two mounted to the garret, and Mother Michel, lantern in hand, searched in the attic and under the roof. Silence and solitude reigned everywhere. "You are again mistaken," murmured Mother Michel. "No, no," replied the malicious man; "let us continue to hunt, we shall finish by finding. We haven't looked there--behind those fagots." The credulous Mother Michel advanced in the direction indicated, and--to the great stupefaction of Lustucru--the cat, which he believed drowned, appeared in full health and strength, and fixed its gaze upon him indignantly. [Illustration: "It is he! It is he!" cried Mother Michel.] "It is he! it is he!" cried Mother Michel, seizing Moumouth in her arms. "Ah, my dear Lustucru! my good and true friend, how I thank you for conducting me here!" The steward had scarcely any taste for compliments which he so little merited. Pale-faced and cold, he hung his head before his victim, whose preservation he could not explain to himself. It was, however, a very simple thing: Moumouth, pursued by the dogs, succeeded in leaping from the wall, and, passing from gutter to gutter, from garden to garden, from roof to roof, had reached his domicile; but, dreading the resentment of his enemy, he had not dared to appear, and had hidden himself in the garret. "Am I the dupe of a nightmare?" said Father Lustucru to himself. "Is it really that rascal of a Moumouth that I have there under my eyes, in flesh and bone? Isn't it his ghost that has come back to torment me? This cat, then, is the evil one in person!" The cat was not the evil one--Providence had protected him. CHAPTER V. IN WHICH THE CAT CONTENDS SUCCESSFULLY AGAINST HIS ENEMY. The events we have recorded indicate very clearly the position of our personages. Fearing to lose both the well-beloved cat and the advantages she was ambitious to obtain, Mother Michel redoubled her vigilance and attention.